Mayhem at Hogwarts
by LilySeverus1
Summary: When the Quidditch tournament is cancelled, the Gryffindors wonder what could possibly be wrong. Little do they know the replacing tournament will be much more action-packed, and along the way a much deeper and more sinister secret comes to light.
1. Love Potions and Pumpkin Juice

The Tasks

The whole of Gryffindor house was gathered in the common room, crammed into the squashy armchairs before the hearth or else milling around impatiently. There was an excited buzz in the air as the pupils discussed why they had been summoned here.

"I've heard Dumbledore's got a pet dragon he wants us to meet!" Neville called out gleefully, his face shining expectantly.

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, don't be _stupid_, Neville. Dumbledore would never take _that _kind of risk with his students."

Neville made to protest, but was silenced as the portrait hole burst open and Professor McGonagall climbed in, looking round at the students gathered there. She had a disgruntled expression on her face, and was holding a long piece of parchment. Clearing her throat, she began,

"The Quidditch Tournament has been cancelled," she stated, attempting to ignore the cries of protest that met this news.

"WHAT!"

"You're joking!"

"That's outrageous!

"You can't-" 

"I'm afraid it's not up to me, Potter," McGonagall snapped irritably. "_Professor _Trelawney insists that she sees 'grave accidents' for the Quidditch teams of Hogwarts if they are to go ahead and take part in the tournament this year. Professor Dumbledore, most unwisely if you ask me, has chosen to take her advice and cancel the tournament."

"Please, Professor," Hermione chimed in, "What are we going to do instead then?"

"Ah," McGonagall's face went dark, and her lips tightened. "This is where it gets rather _preposterous, _you see. Each teacher is to set their own 'mini tournament' for all students of all ages to take part in. One student will win each subject's tournaments, adding points to their respective houses. The house with the most points, wins."

"But – well, Snape's obviously gonna be unfair and let someone from Slytherin-" 

"I _know, _Potter. But there is _nothing I can do about it._"

"Can't believe this," Ron grumbled at breakfast the next morning, smashing his pumpkin juice down so hard it sloshed onto Hermione's toast. "No Quidditch, and instead we have to do more _work_. That's what it will be, isn't it? Learning new spells and all that…"

"Well," Hermione piped up, brandishing her wand at her sodden toast, "I, on the other hand, think it'll be a great learning experience," she went on, ignoring Ron's rude muttering and Harry's sniggers. "I mean, if we're to sit our NEWTs next year we'll have to have as much practical experience as possible."

"Yeah, just because you're going to win all the subject tournaments. Except potions maybe… I reckon that'll go to Malfoy, bloody teacher's pet." Ron snapped.

Just before Hermione could round on him once more, Dumbledore stood up at the staff table and cleared his throat. Although it wasn't a loud gesture, the Hall fell silent immediately.

"As you all know, students and teachers alike, a different kind of tournament shall be taking place this year at Hogwarts." He beamed down upon them with a twinkle in his eye, apparently unaware of the reluctant groans and whisperings that received his words. "I hope you shall all find this to be a beneficial learning experience-"

"See!" Hermione hissed.

"-and an entertaining task at the same time. You shall be briefed of your tasks in your respective lessons. And to ensure there is no cheating, each student shall perform their own _individual _task."

An even louder groan echoed through the Hall as the students exchanged pained looks with their friends.

"This is going to be awful. Bloody awful." moaned Ron, swigging down the last of his pumpkin juice in dismay.

Charms class was silent as Harry, Ron and Hermione filed in that morning to find each and every pupil watching Professor Flitwick eagerly. Clearly, Hermione wasn't the only one looking forward to the subject tournaments.

"Ahem," Professor Flitwick squeaked, his tiny body swaying on the pile of books that allowed him to see his seated students at eye level. "Your first task. Yes. I shall call each one of you to accompany me in the empty classroom next door in alphabetical order to receive your briefing. The rest of you will kindly wait patiently… Now, first… Hannah Abbott, if you will please follow me…"

Soon it was Hermione's turn to stumble nervously out of the classroom and return, red-faced and flustered, refusing to tell a word.

"Professor Flitwick said if I tell anyone about my task I'll get disqualified." She stated resolutely.

Ten minutes later, Parvati returned to the classroom and informed Harry that it was his turn. Surprisingly nervous, Harry strode out the door and into the empty classroom.

"Ah, Mr Potter," Flitwick squeaked, beaming at Harry. "Take a seat, take a seat. Now… your first task… Hmm. Oh yes! Should be interesting… you must put a Cheering Charm on Professor McGonagall tomorrow morning at breakfast. Off you go now! Please tell-"

"But Professor… that's… impossible!"

Flitwick winked mischievously. "I'm sure you'll find a way, Mr Potter."

At the end of the lesson, Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly gathered up all their books and made their way down to the dungeons for Potions.

"I've got to levitate Snape's goblet of pumpkin juice tomorrow morning without him realising it's me. Honestly, I doubt I'll make it past this first task alive!" Ron complained loudly as they swept down their third flight of stairs.

"_Ron! _You could get disqualified-" Hermione began.

"Good! Save me the trouble!"

When they finally arrived down at the dungeons, half the class were there, but not seated. Instead the students had formed an orderly line with an arm's distance between them. Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry as he entered but could not reprimand him for lateness because Malfoy hadn't arrived yet. A feeling of dread began stewing in Harry's stomach – Flitwick's task was going to look like a piece of cake in comparison to whatever Snape had in store for him.

"Silence!" Snape snapped, even though nobody had been talking. "Join the line and spread out. I will inform you of your tasks in turn and give you the required _apparatus _to carry them out. You first, Potter." Snape's mouth had curled into a twisted smile, and the feeling in Harry's stomach worsened. Snape bent over, his face inches away, his hooked nose almost touching Harry's and breathed in a voice full of venom,

"Love potion," he whispered, handing Harry a vial full to the brim of swirly pink liquid. "You will find a way to slip it to Millicent Bulstrode tomorrow night. And you will not be able to give her the antidote for three days. Is that clear?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest – Millicent Bulstrode was a Slytherin nobody liked to cross at the worst of times. Butch, unfriendly and evil-tempered, Millicent was the last person Harry wanted to fall head over heels for him – but Snape silenced him with a look that could kill. Fuming, Harry pocketed the potion.

That night, Harry, Hermione and Ron were seated comfortably around the warm fire in the Gryffindor common room, discussing (well, Harry and Ron were) their tasks.

"Millicent Bulstrode…" Ron shook his head, grinning, "And I thought I'd got it bad, mate. All I have to do is slip Goyle a Shrinking Solution… at least mini Goyle won't be able to beat me up though… Imagine Millicent in love!"

"It's not funny!" Harry insisted, over Ron's howls of laughter. "How am I going to manage this? I kind of want this… just because Quidditch is off, doesn't mean Gryffindor aren't in with a chance of winning-"

But at that moment he was interrupted by a shout of surprise from upstairs. Hermione, who had been dozing off with Crookshanks in her lap, sat bolt upright as thundering footsteps brought Neville into the common room, clutching in his hand…

"Neville, why are you holding a badger at 12 o'clock at night?" Ron asked sleepily.

"He was in Trevor's tank! I reckon Trevor's got magic powers!" Neville exclaimed excitedly, waving the furry black and white lump in Harry's face.

"Oh – I'm so sorry, Neville. That was me – my Transfiguration task was to turn Trevor into a badger… must have forgotten to turn him back – might as well tell you now. Here." She waved her wand and in the badger's place returned Trevor, croaking loudly. Neville looked crestfallen, and Harry could have sworn he heard a sniff as he made his way slowly back up to the boys' dormitories.

"We'd better get to bed too. I mean, need some sleep if I'm going to get murdered by Snape at breakfast tomorrow…" Ron yawned, and off they went.

Harry awoke early the next morning feeling utterly carefree. After a few minutes, he remembered the events of the day before, and the tasks that were in store for him today, and felt a knot tighten in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't the only one – Ron was lying in bed, practicing levitating his Chudley Cannons figurines, while Neville seemed to be attempting to turn his bed curtains purple. Frowning slightly, Harry felt for his glasses then got ready to go to breakfast, a plan slowly forming in his mind.

"Professor," Harry was standing by Professor McGonagall at the staff table, clutching a piece of parchment. "I really don't understand this essay, should we describe inter-Animal transfigurations or just give examples…"

"Potter, now is really not the time! I am trying to eat my breakfast in peace thank you very much-"

Harry pointed his wand at the unhappy Professor discretely and murmured the incantation under his breath. Professor McGonagall burst into a fit of giggles that was so out of character even Professor Sprout, who was seated next to her, looked round, shocked. Harry shrugged at Sprout's questioning look and made his way back to the Gryffindor table, grinning. He caught Flitwick's eye on the way, and received an approving nod.

Just as he was about to take his seat next to Ron, a furious shout from the staff table brought silence on the dining students. Snape, his black eyes flashing furiously, was pointing his wand at a goblet high up in the enchanted ceiling. It came whizzing back down, and Snape cast his eye round the Hall, as though expecting someone to stand up and exclaim that they did it.

"Whoever did that," he snarled, his voice echoing in the silent Hall, "will regret it."

Dumbledore chuckled heartily. "Now now, Severus. I'm sure it was just a task. No harm done, eh?"

Snape did not reply, but slowly lowered himself back down, disgruntled.

Flitwick winked at Ron, who turned to Harry with a queasy expression.

"Got a bit carried away… nerves, you know… he knows it was me, I can tell!"

"Don't be daft, Ron. Like Dumbledore said, no harm done." Hermione chirped over her issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Try telling that to him!" Ron nodded at Snape, who was still glaring at each student in turn.

That evening, Harry had succeeded in slipping a few drops of love potion into Millicent Bulstrode's pumpkin juice on his way past the Slytherin table. Full of dread, he returned to Gryffindor tower, Ron still grumbling about how mini Goyle had been harmless, full-sized Crabbe not so much. A brilliant purple bruise was forming around his left eye.

Exhausted, Harry flung himself onto the nearest armchair and began discussing Millicent's possible approaching tactics. He had barely had time to relax, however, when a pounding on the portrait hole and a familiar drawling voice startled him upright. Hermione was first off the mark, and, pulling the portrait of the Fat Lady aside ("such rude manners! In my day you would knock and wait…") raised her eyebrows at the sight of Malfoy in black silk pyjamas, with a grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Harry!" Malfoy exclaimed at the sight of Harry, and attempted to clamber through the portrait hole.

"Woah, stop right there Malfoy," Ron attempted to hold Malfoy back, but he shoved him aside impatiently.

"I knew you'd be here, Harry… we're made for each other!"

"Well of course I'm here, Malfoy, it's Gryffindor tower, and – wait, what?" Realization dawned upon Harry's face, and he planted his face into his palms.

"Nooo…. I put the potion in the wrong goblet…!" he groaned.

Ron let out a wild howl of laughter at the sight of Malfoy attempting to get closer to Harry, but Hermione frowned.

"You're lucky, Harry. My Potions Task was to slip Cho Chang some Hate Potion, but Snape gave me more than the necessary amount. Seeing as Malfoy already hates you – well, usually – then I don't expect its effects to be any different to normal Draco. _Accio Hate Potion!"_

A tiny vial half full of deep black liquid came zooming out of Hermione's schoolbag.

"Here, er, Draco, drink this," Harry pressed the bottle into his hands.

"Anything for you, Harry!" Malfoy said excitedly, keeping his gaze on Harry as he swigged down the potion. The effects were almost instant. Malfoy's face went from flushed pink to a sickly green, and his blue eyes narrowed to slits.

"If… any of you… breathe a word…" he gasped, and turned on his heel and fled.

Even Hermione managed giggle when they discussed the matter later that night, but, on a more serious note, Harry realised something.

"Well, this means I've failed, doesn't it? I'm out of the Potions tournament."

"I wouldn't consider that a bad thing!


	2. A Mysterious Prediction

**Sorry this chapter is shorter than the last, I haven't had any reviews so I thought if you don't want to read big chunks of text I'll make them smaller and bit by bit. Enjoy **

"I still can't get over the fact that Malfoy _fancied _you last night!" Ron snorted into his cereal the next morning at breakfast. "I mean, there I was thinking Millicent Bulstrode was bad, but _Malfoy…"_

"Shut up, Ron," Harry snapped, half annoyed, half amused. Just then Snape strode into the Hall, a twisted smile on his sallow face. "Reckon he's smiling cos I've failed, or the Malfoy thing?"

"Probably a bit of both," Hermione commented. "Now come on, how long do you take to eat? It's Care of Magical Creatures this morning; I wonder what Hagrid's task will be?"

They wandered down the sloping lawns with the rest of the Gryffindors. It was too sunny a day to walk quickly, and Harry felt deeply grateful that Care of Magical Creatures was outdoors. Slightly late and wearing dazed smiles on their faces, they arrived at Hagrid's hut to find an irritable and moody Hagrid awaiting them.

"Ye're late! I am a professor, yeh know! I can dock yeh points if I wanted ter!" he snapped at the taken-aback class. Hagrid had always, despite appearances, been the softest and most lenient teacher in school. Unfortunately, this made him prone to fall into traps, Harry remembered with a sigh, particularly ones that involved strangers and dragon eggs… But today, Hagrid seemed to be in a foul mood.

Harry edged closer to him nervously and dropped his voice. "Hagrid, are you ok?"

"Wha'? Oh, it's yeh. Yeah, I'm alright, me. It's that Severus Snape needs talking to. Thinks he can go round, makin' comments like tha'… anyone woulda thought he didn' take me as a serious teacher! Anyway, tasks… yeah… righ', listen up, all of yeh! It was hard thinkin' of tasks for all yeh lot to do, so I thought yeh could jus' help me round the gardens, yeh know…"

The class breathed a sigh of relief. Each of them had been expecting a dangerous encounter with some deadly beast that Hagrid might have claimed as a new pet. Helping round the gardens came as a positive relief.

"What's our next lesson?" Harry asked, as he carefully removed a dead mole from a red, pulsating bush of some sort.

"Divination," Ron replied with a sigh. "She'll be asking us to predict Dumbledore's fate or something stupid. I say we take the tried and trusted route, eh, Harry? Make it up?"

Hermione clucked her disapproval at their blatant cheating, but Harry knew she hated the subject Divination too much to confront them.

An hour later, Ron and Harry were sitting awkwardly around a dainty painted table in the hot, stuffy Divination classroom, still panting from the tiring walk from outside. Professor Trelawney seemed to appear from the shadows, her deep, mystical voice emanating through the crowded room. She turned her huge, dragonfly-like eyes upon Harry and began.

"I trust you all had a good holiday since last we met? Well, I know of course, but one does not like to intimidate with one's Inner Eye…"

Before Harry knew it, he had dozed off, and next thing he knew he was having a teacup thrust under his nose without a clue what to do with it.

"My dear boy, while I strongly recommend contemplating the fates, I ask you to pay attention in my lesson at least! As I was saying, due to the headmaster's strong trust in my predictions, Quidditch has been cancelled, to be replaced with subject tournaments. I have asked the fates to decide your tasks, so you will be looking into your tea leaves to try and decipher your own individual message. That is your task, and you will report back to me at the end of the lesson with your cup and message. Begin."

Harry lazily rifled through his barely used copy of _Unfogging the Future _in attempt to decipher what the long thin blob and shorter, rounder one meant.

"Let's have a look at yours, mate." Ron said, frowning into Harry's cup. "Hmmm… Looks like a tower, doesn't it? Perhaps… someone's falling off the tower?"

Harry snorted at Ron's out of character prediction attempt and peered into his own cup again. Now he came to think of it, it did resemble one of the towers of Hogwarts… a chill went up his spine but he brushed it off. It was just a loud of rubbish, like Hermione always said.


	3. Dares

Hey guys =)

So due to a lack of reviews for my last updates on 'Mayhem in Hogwarts', I've been forced to accept that the story really must be lacking something to receive such low interest. Which is why I address you all now – please give me dares! Dares for the characters to perform on the teachers or each other, whatever you like, I'll give the best dares a shout out in the next chapter. Please review and add your dare.


	4. Tower at Midnight

**Thank you to all those who have favourited and thank you minna for your help! **

That night, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in silence in Gryffindor common room, feeling subdued.

"What's up with you, mate?" Ron finally blurted out, unable to bear it any longer. "Trelawney was well impressed with your message, keep going at this rate and you could be Divination Champion!"

Harry frowned. "That's just it though… she said she too had recurring visions of a tower and a grave accident. D'you reckon she could be on to something? I mean, could it be one of her very few _real _prophecies?"

Hermione slammed her book down loudly, glaring at Harry and Ron. "Honestly, you two, that old cow is a _fraud_! All she cares about is looking all mystic and omniscient, but it seems when she really does make a _true _prophecy, she doesn't even know she's doing it! Remember the Grim in third year, Harry? How could you possibly take her seriously after that?"

Harry was not completely satisfied, but could think of nothing to say, so grudgingly retired to his four-poster-bed. He did not sleep straight away though, and when he did he dreamt of bright green lights, and tall towers at night, and Sirius, Sirius falling through the archway, barely aware of what had just hit him…

Harry sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and covered in cold sweat. It was still dark, but the image of Sirius' face was imprinted into his mind. Neville's loud snores told him he was the only one awake, and very silently he felt for his Invisibility Cloak and tiptoed out the door. He was not entirely sure of what he was doing, or where he was going, but the fresh memory of Sirius coupled with yesterday's strange events in Divination had left him with a hunger to ask a burning question…

He climbed out of the portrait hole and past the Fat Lady ("wha-who's there?") and began rehearsing his conversation with Dumbledore in his head. It was only then that he realised by the time he had reached the stone gargoyles defending the headmaster's office that he knew all the answers to his questions. He felt suddenly foolish, standing there in just his pyjamas in the dark corridor. The gargoyle eyed him sleepily, and murmured, "Are you going to go in or not?"

Harry bit his lip. He might ask Dumbledore what these dreams meant. Yes, he would ask what the meaning of the tower prediction was, and if maybe it was related to Sirius… but he musn't get his hopes up. Sirius was dead, he knew that.

"Yeah, er, wait… acid pop? Sherbet lemon? Erm, chocolate frogs, cockroach clusters… cauldron cakes?" The gargoyle sprang to life at his last two words, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, only to be replaced with anticipation as he climbed the oak staircase up to the old wooden door that led to Dumbledore's office. He stopped just outside it, however, hearing voices, and, reminding himself that he was invisible, pressed an ear to the door to listen in.

"Headmaster, where do you think the… _event _will take place?" Severus Snape's voice, muffled though it was, was unmistakeable.

Harry strained to hear Dumbledore's soft voice in reply. "I have a plan, Severus. An outing, if you will. If all goes to plan, I should be on the Astronomy Tower by midnight. That would be a convenient place to carry it out, would it not?" Harry's eyes widened in the dark. The Astronomy Tower…

He heard Snape's low, mirthless laugh. "You speak of it like it is some sort of game, part of everyday life-"

"Ah, Severus, that's where you're mistaken. It _is _part of everyday life."

Harry pressed his ear closer, sure he was mishearing something, for this conversation made absolutely no sense to him, but at just that moment he had to stifle a gasp and flatten himself against the wall as Snape swept, scowling unpleasantly, from the office and down the steps.

Harry deliberated for just a moment. He knew now that the dream was of some relevance, but he did not dare to reveal to Dumbledore that he had been eavesdropping in on what he felt sure was a private conversation. Turning things over in his mind, Harry decided the best option was to sneak out behind Snape and discuss the matter with Ron and Hermione at breakfast the next morning.


	5. Arrycubbyniffin

**Shout out to Pottergal22 for your amazing review (it truly made my day!) and hilarious dare! I hope you enjoy my take on it! I thought it might not be as believable from McGonagall, as she doesn't approve of the whole tournament thing, to give such a scandalous task, so it came from Dumbledore instead ;). Unfortunately I couldn't fit the actual dare into this chapter, but don't worry, it's coming soon! **

**AN: I know, I've messed up big time, as this is set in HP6, and Snape wasn't Potions professor then. So let's just say it's not completely canon…**

"Arrycubbyniffin!" Ron grumbled over breakfast the next morning, struggling to speak through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Hermione shot him a disgusted glare. Swallowing with great effort, he tried again,

"Harry, it could be anything. Honestly mate, just 'cos you heard them talking about something that's gonna happen on the Astronomy tower one night, doesn't mean there's some sort of elaborate plan between Dumbledore and Snape. For all we know, Hagrid could be planning a blast-ended skrewts party, or-"

"Ron, listen to me! Whatever it is Dumbledore's got planned, Snape's not happy about it. They're going to _carry something out, _and… Hermione, you agree with me, right?"

Hermione looked up reluctantly from her copy of the _Daily Prophet _she seemed to have been hiding behind and gave Harry a strained smile.

"Harry, I think Ron has a point. I mean, we've jumped to conclusions about Snape before, and look where that got us. I think we should just keep our heads down – no, Harry listen! – keep our heads down and try have a normal, uneventful year at Hogwarts for once! I mean, I'd quite like to get this tournament out of the way and start some serious revision for my NEWTs…"

Harry dropped his head onto the table with a groan, giving into Hermione's rant about studying hard to get a good start in life. Honestly, if he was going to spend the rest of his life fighting Voldemort, what did it matter how many O's he got in his exams? He didn't exactly need to know how to transfigure tortoises into teapots to destroy Horcruxes, did he?

And so it was in a foul mood that Harry reluctantly took his seat in Transfiguration before lunch. Last lesson McGonagall had only got as far as M in the alphabet, so Harry would be receiving his first task today. With a heavy heart, he made his way into the empty classroom where McGonagall sat behind a desk, her lips a thin line on her frowning face, and he could swear he heard her cluck in disapproval as he sat down before her.

"Potter. Yes, your task..." McGonagall's lips were now barely visible. "Unfortunately, the headmaster did not believe that any tasks given by me would be… _adventurous _enough for the _spirit _of the tournament, and so took the liberty to write his own tasks for my pupils." Her voice was stiff and emotionless as she held out a miniscule roll of yellowed parchment, on which Harry recognized the loopy handwriting of his headmaster:

_Potter, Harry._

_Transfiguration Task Number One:_

_Transfigure Professor Severus Snape into an animal of your choice. If you are revealed as the caster of the spell, you fail your task. Good luck!_

Harry could not quite believe what he was reading. Ron had always said that Dumbledore was mental, but this… this was a death sentence!

"Professor, could I… would it be possible to change my task to something more…"

"Dear me, no, Potter," McGonagall replied briskly, though Harry thought he saw her lips twitch ever so slightly. "I see nothing wrong with that particular task."

Transfiguring a professor? His mind flew back to his fourth year, when imposter Moody had transfigured Draco Malfoy into a white ferret, much to the amusement of himself… but this was different. Harry did not think it possible for Snape to hate him any more than he already did, but if he was caught doing this… certainly, a slow and painful death was the promised penalty.

"But – that's incredibly irresponsible of Professor Dumbledore! What if something were to go wrong in the spell casting and you seriously harmed Snape? Human transfiguration is not something to be meddled with so lightly, and I for one think-"

"Oh, lighten up, Hermione!" Ron silenced her, grinning broadly. "I think it's bloody brilliant! What animal's it gonna be, then, Harry? A snake would be the obvious choice… no, scratch that, a bat! Wonder if anyone would notice the difference though…"

"You don't think I should actually do it?" Harry gasped.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Look, Hermione, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to mess with Snape and not get into any real trouble – after all, it was a task, so technically Harry has permission-"

"Permission or no permission, I still don't think-"

"Then I'm doing it." Harry stated, a small smile gracing his own features. "After all, Ron's right, isn't he? I have express permission from the _headmaster _himself to turn Snape into the oversized bat that he is!"

Hermione could not seem to counter balance this logic, so settled with slamming down her copy of _Hogwarts: A History _and marching off to the girl's dormitories. Harry and Ron soon made their own way to bed, tears of laughter in their eyes at the thought of the task that awaited the next day's Potions lesson.


	6. A Batty Potions Master

**So I've been updating pretty often recently, not only because it's the holidays and I'm bored numb, but some of these chapters are old ones I wrote and never got round to updating because I thought no one read this story. If you are reading this but not reviewing… please don't! Reviews only prompt me to update faster, and I'm open to any constructive criticism you may have. **

Severus Snape was in a particularly foul mood as he surveyed his students with narrowed eyes the next morning. The usually cold dungeons were filled with the warm fumes of the _Draught of Living Death _the sixth years were brewing, giving Harry added cover from his Professor's watchful eyes.

"Harry, I seriously think you should reconsider this!" Hermione hissed from next to him, but Harry took no notice. All that morning he had been practicing Transfiguring Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, into a bat then back into normal form again. Despite some issues to replace the bat wings with normal owl ones, Harry had almost perfected the spell, much to Ron's delight.

Professor Snape, upon seeing the gleeful look on Harry's face, swept over to his cauldron for a fresh bout of criticism. As his hooked nose disappeared amongst the thick plumes of putrid-smelling smoke Harry's potion was giving off, his lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Call this… a potion, Potter? Pathetic. I clearly stated that only ¾ of the recommended amount of valerian roots would be necessary… _Scourgify_." Snape cleared Harry's cauldron with a flick of his wand. "Another 'D' I'm afraid, Potter…"

Harry clenched his fists, forcing himself to calm the irrational anger Snape's presence always brought up from within him.

"Do it now, mate! Bloody git, deserves what's coming for him!" Ron whispered. Harry nodded silently and raised his wand a fraction of an inch, pointing it through a gap in the rapidly fading fumes at his Potions master.

Pansy Parkinson's ear splitting shriek was what brought attention to it the most. Neville, so shocked by the sudden noise, dropped a whole handful of sloth brains into his acid green potion, which began to spit and hiss violently. Seamus' brass scales fell to the floor with a loud clatter, and Malfoy's hand slipped on his knife, causing sopophorous beans to fly across the classroom, straight into Lavender Brown's hair. Pansy shrieked again, this time backed up by Parvati and Lavender, for there, hovering in the air where their Potions master had just stood, was an extremely large, hairy black bat. It flapped its wings wildly and fluttered across the dungeon, in a state of extreme panic.

"Harry quick, undo it! Turn him back to normal!" Hermione hissed, her cheeks flushed pink and her hair bushier than ever. Across the bench from her, Ron was bent double, desperately attempting to suppress gales of laughter. In similar states were Dean and Seamus, whereas Crabbe and Goyle simply stood there blankly, seemingly unable to connect the disappearance of their Potions master to the sudden appearance of an oversized bat in their midst.

"Undo it… right, yeah…" Harry refocused his wand on the desperate bat, more thankful than ever that bats were blind, and murmured the incantation to replace his Potions master. But nothing happened. Heart racing, Harry repeated the spell, more forcefully this time, but still nothing. On his third try, a jet of white light hit the bat squarely in the chest, which began to elongate, the black skin folding into black robes, a nastily familiar head reappearing between the wings, but then…

"What complete and utter imbecile," Snape snarled, voice dripping with venom, "was so magically incompetent that they could not replace a pair of _wings _with _arms_?" For there, fluttering madly in the place of a pair of human arms, were two large, leathery black bat wings.


	7. Harry's temper

**So I've come up with a solution (pheww) for the whole Snape-being-Potions-Professor-in-6****th****-year problem, and decided that… say Romilda Vane came down with a nasty case of dragonpox this year and was unable to attend school. Therefore, Harry never received those love potion-spiked chocolate cauldrons, never needed to go to Slughorn that night, who in turn drank the poisoned mead all to himself. Fortunately, he had the sense to retrieve a bezoar this time, but he is currently very weak and unable to teach – Snape is kindly covering his 6****th**** year classes. Yay!**

"Be warned, I have ways of retrieving the truth from the tightest of lips…" Snape's voice echoed in the partially empty dungeon office. Snape had deducted, by his own means, the most likely suspects and told the pupils in question to return to his office at 9 o'clock that night. Harry (no explanation needed there), Neville ("The only dim-witted excuse for a wizard I deem incompetent enough…" Snape had snarled upon choosing him) and Ron ("Shares his _friend's_ blatant disregard for school rules…") were all seated uncomfortably on cold wooden stools around Snape's desk. Neville was gazing fearfully at the many jars of slimy and repulsive objects that decorated his most feared teacher's shelves, while Ron was staring blankly at the dying fire, his eyes screwed up slightly in annoyance. He had not expected this.

"…As Potter well knows…" Snape drawled, his beady black eyes fixed on Harry while he paced the office before them. Harry swallowed, pushing the memory of Barty Crouch Jr. spilling his darkest secrets to a room full of enemies out of his mind.

"Anything to tell us, Potter? Anything to… _spill?_" Snape's lip was curled menacingly as he rounded once again on Harry. "Come now, Potter, I know it was you… Longbottom here couldn't tell a switching spell from a killing curse,and Weasley hasn't got half the guts… you're just like you're father, Potter. Stupid enough to pull a stunt like that and too stubborn to admit it was you! He was an arrogant show off just like you, flying around on his _broomstick _and wheedling his way out of punishment…"

Harry clenched his fists under the desk, red hot anger bubbling up inside him.

"… He met a sticky end, did _James Potter… _all that Quidditch skill and boyish charm couldn't save him from where he is now, rotting underground-"

"You shut up!" Harry bellowed, his face reddening and hands shaking uncontrollably. "You shut up right now-"

"Detention." Snape said calmly. "For a week." He added with a smirk, sweeping from the room with his black cloak billowing behind him, still looking as bat-like as ever despite Madam Pomfrey's removal of his wings.

After a few awkward moments of silence, Harry stood up quietly and made to leave. Turning round, he saw that Neville's face was white as a sheet, his mouth hanging open in an almost comical 'O'. Ron, however, was frowning directly at Harry, and when he spoke, he chose his words tentatively.

"Harry, mate… he was bang out of order saying that stuff about your dad, but… you know how he is, he was just trying to wind you up, get you to lose your temper and have an excuse to give you detention…"

Harry didn't say anything, but he realised Ron was right as they walked back up to Gryffindor tower. He had let his temper get the better of him, and of course Snape had achieved what he had wanted – punishment. Just before they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry was shaken out of his reverie by Neville's awe-struck voice.

"I can't believe you said that to Professor Snape, Harry… you're… you're… you're so brave! I mean, if he said those things about my dad, I'd-" Neville stopped there, unsure of what to say next, but Harry spared him with a small, understanding smile.


	8. Detention

**Thank you thank you thank you for all those who have story alerted or reviewed me, it's a huge incentive to keep writing =) This chapter gets a bit more serious, for, as you may have gathered, the truth's beginning to reveal itself-**

Hermione's reaction was much the same as Ron's, as Harry had bitterly anticipated.

"Harry! Of course he just said those things to get you into a temper, he knows you're - well - easily wound up by matters concerning your father… he'll have something nasty in store for you this detention, I know it…"

To Harry's dismay, Hermione was right. When he was met by the cold, sneering voice at eight that Saturday night, Harry instantly knew this was to be the one of the worst detentions he'd had so far.

"Ah, Potter," Snape's voice dripped with twisted delight. "Yes, I'd like a little help sorting out Professor Slughorn's potions cupboard… you will separate the greying sloth brains from the fresh ones, pick out any dead beetles from the live ones, any shrivelled beans from the ripe ones… you get the idea, Mr Potter, I'm sure. Oh – and no magic."

Harry did not reply, merely hurrying from the image of Snape sat at Slughorn's desk with a smug smile on his sallow face and made his way to the potions cupboard. As the peeling wooden doors swung open, he was hit by a blast of putrid odour – something like decaying animals and bleach. For the next half hour, Harry determinedly picked limp, shrivelled worms from a bowl of wriggling lives ones, forcefully not complaining in order to avoid giving Snape any more satisfaction. He gritted his teeth, accidently crushing the odd live beetle here and there, whenever Snape made the occasional snide remark-

"Hope this isn't too _laborious _for the glorious Chosen One? Surprised you haven't brought along your little army of worshippers to help you, Potter." Or –

"To be honest, I don't know how that big head of yours fits through the doors at this place. I am constantly informing the headmaster of your insolence, but he refuses to accept that his little _golden boy_ could possibly-"

But what exactly Dumbledore refused to accept Harry never found out, for at that moment a sharp rap at the office door stopped Snape in his tracks.

"Enter."

Harry craned his head round the side of the cupboard door, unaware that he had spilt newt eyeballs all over the frogspawn cubes, hoping to catch a glimpse of this night time visitor. He met the piercing blue eyes of none other than Albus Dumbledore, and looked away quickly.

"Severus. I hope I'm not of any inconvenience, but I have an urgent matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Of course, headmaster." Snape replied, bowing his head and accompanying the old man out of the office and into the corridor beyond.

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Harry's curiosity got the better of him, and he very carefully approached the slightly ajar office door, pressing his ear to the carved wood.

"-No success as yet, headmaster, though I am certain your suspicions are correct – the boy is certainly plotting something. I just wish I knew a way to win back his trust and find out what it is…"

"Very well, Severus. And my offer? Have you considered that any further?"

There was a long moment of strained silence, before Snape replied, slightly bitterly.

"I would hardly call it an offer, headmaster. I don't believe I have any say in the matter. But yes, if that's how you'd like to phrase it, I shall accept your offer. But not for the boy's sake, mind you. Everything I do… it's for… _her_."

"Wonderful, my dear Severus!" Dumbledore's voice was considerably lighter than his companion's. "Now if you don't mind, Minerva has baked the most delectable cauldron cakes, I really must go and sample them… besides, I've noticed you've already got company." Harry could almost picture the twinkle that would be present in Dumbledore's blue eyes as he said those last words, but his trail of thought was interrupted by a sharp blow to the nose as the office door swung open and hit Harry square in the face. Snape stood in the doorway, his eyes black narrow slits as he glared at Harry.

"Professor, I just- I dropped my – er…"

"How much of that did you hear, Potter?" Snape spat, his body almost shaking.

"Er – nothing, sir, I was just-"

"Out! Get out of here now!" Snape barked, sparks flying from his wand in suppressed anger. With a quick nod, Harry almost ran from the office and swept up the stairs, all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, and was panting heavily by the time he reached his darkened dormitory and flung himself onto his bed.


End file.
